


Can Beauty Come Out of Ashes?

by HunterByDayWhovianByNight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes-centric, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Time, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Sexual Tension, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 01:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15108617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterByDayWhovianByNight/pseuds/HunterByDayWhovianByNight
Summary: “In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow / And keep eternal spring-time on thy face.” —William Shakespeare“Yes, I am letting him go.” —J.M. CoetzeeBucky could swear he loved Steve before he became the Winter Soldier.





	Can Beauty Come Out of Ashes?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! My favorite Stucky fics to read have always been post-Winter Soldier ones where Steve helps Bucky rehabilitate after being the Winter Soldier (Captain America and the Great Pygmalion Debacle by Chianine is my all-time favorite story), so I attempted to write one of my own. Title is from “Ashes" by Celine Dion.
> 
> ~Hunter

The Winter Soldier- or was he Bucky, now that he knew who he was?- pulled Steve out of the water and onto the riverbank. He hovered over the other man, who was logged by water and pale with shock. Bucky knelt beside him and observed his face, his body. His fingers touched the bloody patch over Steve’s suit; there may have been some broken bones. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, like an interested dog, before placing his head down to Steve’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. It was there, dull and slow, but there. He pulled his head back and looked down at his metal arm; Bucky didn’t used to have that. This was the work of Hydra. Bucky Barnes would have never worn a red Soviet star on his arm like a badge of honor, a slave brand. 

It felt strange, being in this body. It felt foreign, even. Bucky’s mind was clashing with the Winter Soldier’s, memories bubbling and surfacing like boiling water. It was overwhelming feeling like he was going to burst. And what if Steve, Bucky’s Steve, didn’t wake up? What would happen if he died? Steve was obviously of some importance to Bucky or else Steve wouldn’t have been pleading with him using Bucky’s name.

Bucky waited a long time beside Steve; he didn’t know how long. He kept checking Steve’s pulse and trying to push the water out of his chest. Bucky, in that moment, remembered taking care of a scrawny, sickly Steve in bed; he had a fever and he was unconscious. He was checking the pulse the same way, brushing his short blond hair back in the same way; did he used to do this, take care of Steve? Is this what he’s always done?

His concentration broke when Steve coughed and sputtered and Bucky-  _ God, _ he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to thinking of himself as Bucky after so long- gasped. There was a curiousness creeping in his mind as Steve coughed up some water and fluttered open his eyes.  _ Damn,  _ Bucky thought.  _ Those are the bluest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen.  _

“S-Steve?” Bucky questioned, leaning over the other man to get closer to his face. That’s the name his brain provides

“Bucky!” Steve cried out, sitting up so fast that Bucky barely had the time to move out of the way. Steve gripped Bucky’s arms weakly and Bucky wanted so badly to flinch or to punch Steve in the face for touching him so unexpectedly, but he tried to restrain himself. He hated being touched.

“Bucky, do you know it’s me?” Steve asked, tucking his legs under himself and trying to assess Bucky’s damage. Steve looked in pain as he did so; he clutched his side and groaned in discomfort as he sat on his knees.

“I think so?”

“You know who I am, that much is good. What am I to you?”

“You are…” Bucky searched for the words to say. Searched for Steve, any memory of him, deep in his mind and soul. He tried to undo decades of programming and brainwashing all at once because he wants to be able to say something back, but he could not think of a single thing.

“I don’t know. I just know you’re Steve.”

Bucky saw the disappointed look in Steve’s eyes when he said he doesn’t know and it broke his heart. He felt the deeper, hidden part of Bucky long to kiss Steve and Bucky considers that maybe once, they were lovers. Maybe that’s why Steve was so disappointed that Bucky didn’t know what their relation was.

“We have to get out of here,” Steve said. He struggled to stand by himself, and Bucky reached out his metal arm for Steve to support himself on, and for a second time today, Steve and Bucky met eyes. He felt a flood of emotions and memories overcome him looking into Steve’s eyes. He felt his eyes prickle and sting; he hasn’t cried in years. He can’t remember the last time he cried. But when the salty tear slid down his face, he remembered what it was like when Steve’s mom, Sarah, cleaned up his knees and elbows as he cried after falling one day when Steve was learning to ride a bike. He had been trying to keep up with Steve once he got the hang of it and tripped over his own damn shoelace. 

“Buck…” Steve murmured as he slipped out of Bucky’s arms and went unconscious again. Bucky gasped and gathered Steve’s dead weight in his arms and around his shoulders, dragging him out of the brush and to the main street.

Bucky screamed as he saw an ambulance approach them on the main street. It halted and a medic got out, started talking fast and asking Bucky what happened to Steve. It stressed Bucky out and his heart began to race faster because he didn’t know what to say, how to answer these people. 

“I-I-I I don’t know, he fell out of a helicarrier and into the river and I pulled him out, I don’t know what happened to him when he fell,” Bucky stammered, handing Steve to the medics and following them into the ambulance.

“How are you related to this man?”

“He’s my…”

“Yes?”

“He’s my friend.”

**~~~~~**

Bucky sat by Steve’s bed with another man- Sam- who had some old song playing on his iPhone on a table on the other side of the room. Bucky was still in his Winter Soldier suit, still dirty and damp from diving into the Potomac the day before. He didn’t let the nurses near him, even to tend to the cuts and bruises on his face. He had to talk to some SHIELD agents a few hours ago, say what happened to him and Steve, and they let him go. That much surprised him. He was certain that he’d be arrested, but they said they would come by Steve’s place later to talk with the both of them.

Bucky didn’t really speak with anyone. He was still feeling anxious from earlier because of all the memories coming back and the agents talking with him. Part of him wanted to leave and just get away, hole up somewhere, and go off the grid, but he knew Steve would be upset. So he stayed, perched in a chair in the corner of the room but still by the bed. He had a good view of the hallway from this spot and could watch the monitors they had hooked up to Steve.

_ “Bucky,”  _ Steve gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. Bucky shot straight up and looked towards the bed. He didn’t know what compelled him to walk over to Steve; it was Bucky, the hidden part of him inside his mind, telling him to do it. Bucky choked back a grimace- Steve looked half-dead and pale. He looked like that a lot when they were kids. 

“Give me your hand,” Steve said, weakly offering his own by turning his palm up. Bucky reached out but pulled his fingers into his palm in fear; nobody touched his body unless they wanted to hurt it. When Bucky refused, they hurt him then, too. 

“Will you hurt me if I don’t?” Bucky said, looking at Steve’s slim white fingers resting in the folds of the stark white sheets. 

“Why would I do that?”

“Because they used to.”

“I’m not they. Just give me your hand, Buck.”

Bucky placed his metal hand in Steve’s.

“The other one, Buck. I want to hold  _ your  _ hand.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t want to, but part of him told him he had to, so he timidly placed his flesh hand on Steve’s and let Steve weakly wrap their fingers together. It felt so strange to be touched by another person. When this body belonged to the Winter Soldier, those who touched him hurt him, tried to sedate or control him, but Steve? He was being so gentle, so kind. Maybe it was a trick. Maybe he would hurt him later. Maybe this was all a game and Steve was only getting Bucky to trust him so he could betray him later.

But something in Bucky’s heart told him to keep holding Steve’s hand, to keep relishing in this soft, beautiful touch. (Steve’s fingers were undeniably calloused but they were still the smoothest thing that Bucky had touched in years, decades.) And so he did. He held onto Steve’s hand and sat in the chair next to the bed. He clenched and unclenched his metal hand, trying to steady himself as he adjusted to the feeling of Steve’s hand in his. Steve rested the side of his face on the pillow so that he could face Bucky as he laid down. 

“Do you remember anything, Bucky?” Steve questioned. His blue eyes peered across the short space between them and into Bucky’s, not allowing the other man to look away. Bucky wanted to reach out and touch his lips with his fingers. Bucky tried to recall one of the several memories that had surfaced today, and pondered the question. He didn’t even realize that he had started stroking the back of Steve’s hand with the pad of his thumb.

“I remember… I remember your mom cleaning up my knee when I fell running after you on your bike,” Bucky said softly, not trying to raise his voice too much. “I remember taking care of you. So many times. I remember doing just this with you one winter, sitting by your bed and holding your hand, praying you wouldn’t die on me, praying that you’d be awake in the morning, I remem-”

Bucky choked out a sob and was unable to finish his sentence. He put his free hand over his face and covered it, trying to shield Steve from his emotional state, from his crying eyes. It was all too much all at once to talk about himself like this. He felt Steve let go of his hand and place it on his arm, trying to soothe him. Bucky flinched at the touch and uncovered his face. Steve looked so distraught, too, and Bucky remembered then how much he used to hate seeing Steve upset. 

“It’s okay, Buck. It’s okay,” Steve assured him. “I didn’t mean to make you so upset, you don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

Bucky solemnly nodded and cast his eyes down, looking at the toes of his boots. He shifted in his seat, and then Steve took his hand again and laid back down like he was before. This time, when Steve took his hand, Bucky didn’t flinch; instead, he felt at ease and warm deep in his chest. Bucky didn’t leave his side all night. 

**~~~~~**

Three days later, Steve was discharged from the hospital and he and Bucky were permitted to go home. Sam convinced Bucky to get his cuts and bruises cleaned up while Steve slept again, and he even stayed in the room with Bucky as he got checked and patched up. He even held Bucky’s hand as he got some stitches on his ribs and a shot. Bucky cried when they touched the bare skin of his back and he was facing away from them, unable to see what they were doing, but Sam had made Bucky maintain eye contact with him and forget that they were touching him; it worked. The whole time, Sam’s voice was calm and cool; he kept soothing Bucky and talking him through the procedures the nurses and doctor were going through.  _ No wonder Steve keeps him around,  _ Bucky thought to himself.  _ He’s just so… reassuring. _

Sam drove Bucky and Steve home, the pair of them sitting in the back seat. Bucky sat as far close to the window as possible, looking out at the buildings and cars and trying to assess where he was before realizing that… he didn’t have to do that anymore. He was going to Steve’s house. He wasn’t going back to Hydra. He was safe now. He slid more towards the center of the back seat and looked over at Steve, feeling his heartbeat increase ever so slightly. He was just so stunning to look at, like an old Classical statue in a museum with his chiseled facial features and strong gaze. He wanted to touch. 

When they got to Steve’s, Sam walked with them to the door. The Winter Soldier’s old tac suit was in a bag carried by Sam; Sam had graciously given Bucky some spare clothes to wear instead of  _ his  _ suit, which Bucky softly whispered a  _ thank you, Sam  _ to. Sam and Steve exchanged their goodbyes, a quick hug and a  _ see you tomorrow,  _ while Bucky awkwardly waved goodbye to Sam, which, to Bucky’s surprise, he still returned. 

“Come in, Bucky,” Steve requested, holding the door wide for him. Bucky fingered the hem of the worn shirt he had on with his metal fingers and crossed over the threshold without looking up into Steve’s eyes. He worried his lower lip with his teeth and allowed Steve to close the door behind him once he was inside. Bucky wandered indoors, Steve following closely behind him, and he glanced around him at the interior decorations. They were minimalist, utilitarian; it all seemed very Steve. 

“Are you hungry?” Steve asked. Bucky nodded and placed his hand on the armrest of the plush navy couch, feeling out of place in every way. It was like sitting in the parlor that was  _ only  _ for guests or going to a friend’s house for the first time and not knowing the rules beforehand. The couch was so soft, too soft, and Bucky sunk his hand into it, watching as the cushion absorbed it. It was warm and soft and comforting. Not many things were. 

“Come with me.”

Bucky withdrew his hand and obediently followed Steve, fiddling with the hem of his shirt to occupy his restless fingers. The usual, comforting sound of the motors in his arm moving and making their subtle  _ whirrr _ noise weren’t even enough right now to distract him. They walked to the kitchen and Bucky awkwardly leaned against the cool tile counter as Steve rummaged through the fridge. Bucky’s eyes flitted swiftly around the room as he tried to assess the room; the window was a bit high, but there was an island to help him jump… 

_ Wait _ . Bucky snapped out of it;  _ Why am I thinking like this again?  _ he thought to himself.  _ I have no reason to. I’m not going back to them. I’m here. I’m with Steve. I’m safe. I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore.  _

“Have this, it should fill you up,” Steve said firmly but reassuringly, handing Bucky a sandwich filled with turkey and tomatoes and a single slice of cheese. 

“You remembered.”

“What?”

“I only like one slice of cheese,” Bucky said, admiring the contents of the sandwich in his hands. 

“Why wouldn’t I remember?” Steve asked, a little smile on the edge of his words, said like Bucky was silly for thinking Steve would forget something like that. Bucky waited for Steve to take the first bite of his own sandwich before he ate any of his; he didn’t want to seem too ravenous. They stood at the island together, eating, in silence. Bucky finished his sandwich before Steve did; Bucky mentally kicked himself. Steve probably thought he was greedy and gluttonous for practically inhaling it now. There was a silent moment as Steve and Bucky looked at each other, the island a barrier between their bodies, before Steve spoke up once more. 

“Do you need a bath or a shower?” Steve asked. Bucky’s ears perked at the offer and he nodded. He couldn’t recall the last time he had taken a  _ real  _ bath or shower, with warm water and soap and a clean towel. He followed Steve down the hall to the bathroom and was handed a towel as he stepped into the room. He looked down at its fluffy, likely warm, greyness and felt the too-soft material between his flesh fingers. 

“It’s too soft,” Bucky mumbled below his breath, trying to be as quiet as possible so that Steve wouldn’t be offended or taken aback by the tone of his voice. The Winter Soldier’s handlers didn’t like it when he spoke too loudly or at all.  _ God, why are you thinking like that? Steve would never do that, he hasn’t acted like that at all so far,  _ Bucky thought to himself once more. 

“A lot of things feel too soft after what guys like us have been through,” Steve said with a knowing tone in his voice. Bucky pressed his back against the wall, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or get too close to Steve, but still, Steve’s radiating warmth permeated through the air. Bucky gazed at Steve as he approached the shower bath, letting his eyes linger maybe a little too long on Steve’s gait, before darting them down towards the ground when Steve turned back to him. He couldn’t shake the thought that maybe they were lovers before all this. 

“Bath or shower?” 

“Um. Bath,” Bucky replied after some absent-minded consideration. “Please,” he added, not wanting to slight Steve’s offer. He had the grey towel hugged tightly to his chest as he watched Steve turn some knobs and fill the tub, test the temperature of the water with the same hand he had held earlier in the hospital. 

“Here you are,” Steve announced when the tub was full. He rose to his full height and Bucky felt his knees get weak and betray him. He had never felt that way before, or, at least, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt that way. “I’ll just be in the living room when you’re done. I’ll set some clothes outside the bathroom.”

Bucky took a moment of pause, weighing his options in the moment. He wanted Steve to stay so that he wouldn’t be alone and so that Steve could help him, but he also wanted him to leave because he didn’t want Steve to see him naked and vulnerable.  _ Steve could try and… touch me, hurt me. Like how they hurt the Winter Soldier,  _ Bucky thought to himself before squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head to try and dismiss the intrusive thought. 

Steve must have seen Bucky do that as he left the room, because he stopped and asked “Are you alright, Buck?”

“Will you try and…” Bucky swallowed. “Hurt me? If I let you stay?” He looked up at Steve’s clear blue eyes with fear in his own, trying to be confident before dropping his gaze for fear of Steve striking him for attempting to challenge him. Even though he knew in his heart Steve wouldn’t act like that, the Winter Soldier’s handlers hadn’t been so kind. They leered at his body as he stripped and washed after a mission, and any time Bucky had broken through the cracks of the Winter Soldier and stood up for himself, it earned him beatings or worse. It was usually worse. Bucky didn’t want this encounter to end like it had once before, when a handler gained the Winter Soldier’s trust before doing  _ things  _ to him that Bucky still bore the marks and scars from. 

Steve exhaled solemnly, eyes and heart falling when Bucky asked him that, like he was hurt that Bucky would think that about him. 

“I could never bring myself to hurt you, Bucky.”

Both men looked up at the same time and Steve offered Bucky a smile to show his affection. It made Bucky feel warm in his chest; it had been so long since someone had smiled at him without a dark glint in their eyes. Steve was so kind and welcoming in his eyes. 

“Do you believe me?”

Bucky nodded. “I do.”

A beat passed before Steve gestured to the tub and motioned for Bucky to step in. He stepped back and averted his eyes as Bucky stripped his clothes off. Bucky tried to be efficient and careful of his stitches and bandages as he removed his clothes, but the hem dragged on his back stitches and he winced and hissed. 

“Do you need help?”

“Please.”

Bucky allowed Steve to gently lift the shirt over his patched-up areas and off. Bucky shifted under Steve’s eyes, feeling them on his bare skin. He didn’t know if he should feel uncomfortable or not in this moment, because while he didn’t like people watching him, seeing him vulnerable, he didn’t mind Steve. The rest of his clothes came off quickly (and carefully) and Bucky noticed Steve trying not to let his eyes linger on any part of him for too long. It was almost reassuring. 

Bucky stepped into the bath and sat down in the shoulder-high water, enveloped in the warmth of it entirely. He sat for a moment and fluttered his eyes shut before tipping his head back and getting the rest of his body wet. When he opened his eyes and saw the water above and his long brown hair curling around him, it didn’t feel like drowning; it felt like being cleansed. He half-smiled before coming back up for air and taking a deep breath to steady himself. 

Steve was now sitting next to the bath on the floor, arms around his knees. He looked like the younger version of himself sitting and holding his legs on the curb as he waited for Bucky to come out of his flat, or even when they would sit in the almost-darkness of Steve or Bucky’s room on the bed when they stayed the night. 

“Can I have a washcloth?”

“Yeah, just take this one.”

Bucky took the cloth from Steve’s hand and felt his metal fingers touch Steve’s dry skin. The sensors sent tingles up his arm and to his nerves, making him break out in goosebumps even in warm water. It was exhilarating. Bucky tore his eyes away from Steve’s, not realizing until he looked away that they had been staring into each other’s eyes. He grabbed the soap and lathered the washcloth and scrubbed at himself, mindful of his stitches. 

“Can you get my back? Please?”

Steve cleared his throat, like he was surprised Bucky asked him that. It was a test; if Steve refused or did it without trying anything with him, then Bucky knew he would be safe. 

“Sure.”

Bucky moved closer to the edge and passed the wet washcloth to Steve. Steve moved up onto his knees and gently began to move the washcloth over Bucky’s back. Unlike in the hospital earlier, when Bucky got so anxious that someone was behind him and out of his sight line that he cried, Bucky felt at ease with Steve. He just simply looked ahead of him at the tiled wall and relaxed, allowing Steve to go around his stitches and bruises carefully.  

_ Is this what trust feels like?  _ Bucky wondered to himself. He felt so surely in his heart that Steve was good, that he was different. It felt like a weight was lifted off of him when he was around Steve, and that he didn’t have to constantly watch his back or locate the nearest exit. His memories of Steve being loyal and kind and respectful to everyone, especially him, made him warm in his heart; he still couldn’t shake that maybe past Bucky loved Steve, and that Steve loved him in return. The way Steve watched him and acted around him gave it away; the way Bucky responded in turn to seemed like second nature, like it was ingrained into him. 

Bucky glanced over his shoulder and looked into Steve’s eyes. Steve smiled at him and Bucky did the same; memories of moments just like this happening over breakfast in their flat, on the bus or subway, under street lamps after dark played in his head over and over. The way he used to feel for Steve, this deep sense of longing and love, was still in his heart. The circumstances and the years could not alter or change what had been there, and all he could do was wish that the other man felt the same for him. 

“Do- do you want me to get your hair?” Steve asked, voice a little hesitant. Bucky nodded and submerged his body again in the water to clear off the excess soap. When he came back up, he rested his neck on the lip of the tub so that Steve could sit behind it. Bucky closed his eyes as he felt Steve’s large hands work through his hair and lather it in the shampoo. It smelled like mint and Bucky knew that it was what made Steve smell like Steve. Steve tugged ever so gently on Bucky’s long hair and Bucky gasped at how (Bucky considered the word pleasurable) agreeable the sensation felt. Goosebumps pricked his skin as a chill wandered down his spine. 

“You okay?” Steve asked. There was a tone of worry in his voice, one that made him sound like a mother hen. 

“Uh-huh.” Bucky didn’t want to embarrass himself by revealing that he liked the feeling of Steve lightly pulling on his hair. 

“Just rinse your hair really quick and I’ll do the conditioner.”

Bucky ducked under the water once more, holding his breath and working his hands through his hair so that the soap came out before surfacing. Like before, he put his head on the tub’s lip and let Steve work his magic. Bucky bit his lip to hold back another gasp when Steve pulled his hair  _ again  _ and tried to ignore the flush in his cheeks. He rinsed his hair again and when he came back up, Steve was drying his hands off at the sink. 

“I’ll just be in the living room while you change. Use whatever you need from the cabinet. We can go get some of your own tomorrow.”

Bucky silently nodded and Steve left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. As Bucky dried off and put on the clothes (clothes that smelled like Steve) that were placed outside the door for him, he remembered his mother drying him off after a bath, checking behind his ears. As he brushed his hair, he remembered lovers playing with his mop of hair while his head rested in their laps. He was hit with an overwhelming sadness; they were all likely dead or too old to remember him now. It struck Bucky that Steve was the only person he truly had left, the only person that would ever understand him. His heart sank in his chest at that thought as he hung up his towel on a hook. He wanted to hold Steve close so that he couldn’t get away. 

Bucky wandered out of the bathroom, fiddling with the cuff on the long sleeve Steve had lent him and found him in the living room. He was unfolding the couch and preparing it for bed, sheet and all. Steve must have sensed his presence in the room, because he turned to face Bucky. 

“You can sleep in my bed, I’ll stay here on the couch,” Steve said, ever the respectful man. Bucky was glad to know that some things hadn’t changed. It stung, though, that Steve wouldn’t stay with him tonight. They had been in close proximity with each other for over a day now, and to not be near Steve almost felt like having a limb removed. Bucky remembered a small, freezing Steve in the worst winter they’d ever known being encircled by his arms and being held close in bed to fight the cold outside. Then there were their sleepovers and all the times it was too cold to be in separate beds; all those times Steve wanted to stay with him. Why was now different?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want,” Bucky offered, running his flesh hand anxiously over his metal arm. “I just… don’t want to be alone.”

“Are you sure?” 

Bucky detected worry in Steve’s voice; did he know what Bucky had gone through, was he guessing? Were there a million terrible ideas of what may or may not have happened while he was the Winter Soldier flying around in his brain?

“Can you stay until I fall asleep at least?” Bucky asked, raising an inquisitive, pleading eyebrow to accentuate his point. He watched as the wheels turned in Steve’s head and he considered his options and decided what to do. 

“Of course,” Steve said. “Just follow me.”

He beckoned for Bucky to follow him and led him to the bedroom. Bucky slunk into the bed and pulled the sheets over his shoulders, nuzzling into the soft pillow below his head. Steve pulled up his desk chair to the foot of the bed and sat in it, phone in his hand just in case. Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut- he was so tired and hadn’t slept in God knows how long- and he allowed his body to succumb to the fatigue and exhaustion and finally sleep. As Bucky drifted off to sleep, the warmth and softness of the pillow and mattress and blankets pushed him closer towards falling into a deep sleep, a rare occurrence now. 

Distantly, and maybe it was even in a dream, Bucky felt Steve kiss his forehead. Steve must have thought he was asleep; it made Bucky smile through his sleepy haze and only confirmed for him that they were once lovers. It was strange, though, to Bucky that he had not yet recalled any memory of them together, of them kissing, of them saying  _ I love you  _ to each other. Sure, there were memories of them sleeping beside each other in bed, but none of them curled up into each other, none of Steve kissing his forehead or Bucky doing the same for Steve. Did he really lose that much memory?

**~~~~~**

When Bucky woke up the next morning, Steve was no longer in the chair at the end of the bed.  _ He must have left in the night or early this morning,  _ Bucky thought to himself as he rose from the bed and ventured out of Steve’s bedroom and down the hall. When he came to the kitchen, he could smell the eggs and sausages Steve was cooking on the stove, heard the  _ pop  _ of the bread in the toaster when it sprang up. He softly, silently padded over to Steve’s side. Steve must have heard his shuffling because he turned his head towards Bucky and smiled at him with that winning smile of his. It was the same smile from all of those years ago; at least some things never changed. 

“Mornin’, Buck,” Steve said. “You can sit down at the table.”

Bucky nodded and sat at the table wordlessly. He slunk into the chair, toying with his sleeve and tucking his feet into the rungs of the chair. He inhaled the smell of the sausages, the scent taking him back to those early Saturday mornings when his mother made breakfast or when he and Steve cooked together. Bucky hoped that this would turn into their mornings together now; it felt nice to be in a home after so long. 

“How’d you sleep?” Steve asked as he brought the food over to the table. Bucky began to serve himself and gave Steve a shrug. He didn’t know how he felt just yet. He was so tired and rundown that every part of him just wanted to sleep again. He wanted to relax and begin to slow down his ever-moving mind. Bucky cut off a piece of the sausage on his place and ate it slowly.

“I just miss you,” Bucky whispered. He missed Steve the entire time he was the Winter Soldier, but just didn’t remember what Steve looked like the brainwashing was so bad. He remembered longing for a Steve, wanting a Steve, but not being able to picture the man in his mind. There were a few times where he faintly remembered the Winter Soldier screaming out for a Steve while being operated on or tortured. Being with Steve right now made him contented, but he just wished that Steve would hold him more, would touch him; it didn’t feel bad when Steve touched him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said. He couldn’t bear to talk about it more.

**~~~~~**

That afternoon, SHIELD Agents came by to talk to Bucky and Steve, and the entire time, Bucky wished it was over. They asked him about where he was held, who he had worked with, and what his targets were. Steve sat at the table with them as they asked Bucky questions, and while it did help Bucky calm down some, he didn’t want Steve to hear the things he was saying. He didn’t want Steve to hate him or to throw him out, but Steve just gave him assuring looks or held his hand or whispered words of encouragement. 

Bucky looked obviously uncomfortable, and felt like all of his anxieties were bubbling up and ready to spill, but Steve stopped the interrogation and said that they could finish at a later time. Bucky let out a shaky sigh of relief and covered his face, not wanting the agents to see his tears. His own body was betraying him right now in front of people who had his life in their hands.

“Bucky won’t be… won’t be prosecuted, will he?” Bucky heard Steve whisper-ask as he walked the agents out the door. Bucky was sitting on the couch now, bundled up with a mug of tea in his hand, but his years of stealth training made him freeze when he heard Steve talk. 

“SHIELD has decided to pretend that this leak Black Widow did revealed the location of one frozen Sergeant Barnes and that we rescued him from a Hydra prison,” one of the agents said, keeping her voice above a whisper. “To the public and to the government, the Winter Soldier is dead. That man on the couch is Sergeant James Barnes and not a murderer.”

“And you’ll get him an honorable discharge?” Steve asked. 

“Nick Fury insisted on it,” the male agent replied before he and the woman left without another word, their heavy-soled shoes thumping on the carpeted hallway outside and down to the stairs. Steve shut the door quietly behind them. 

“So I’ll be okay then, Steve?” Bucky asked. 

Steve whipped his head around to look at Bucky, bundled and almost helpless-looking on the couch. 

“I wasn’t about to let anything happen to you,” he said with an assuring smile. “I couldn’t just let my best friend be charged with something he didn’t even do.”

“But I… but  _ I  _ did that,” Bucky said, choking back his tears. Steve huffed in frustration and sat on the couch next to Bucky, looking at him in the eyes. 

“They brainwashed you. It wasn’t you killing all those people, it was the Winter Soldier.”

“You don’t understand. The Winter Soldier is still part of me. He’s still in my head and all someone has to do is say the words and I become… I become him again,” Bucky said, gripping his mug and his chest heaving. 

“We can fix that,” Steve said. “We can help you, I can help you.”

Steve’s hand had somehow made their way onto Bucky’s face, framing his jaw with his thumb and forefinger, his other fingers resting over Bucky’s pulse. Bucky gasped and swore he saw the beginning of tears in Steve’s eyes. 

_ “Bucky? Bucky, are you okay?”  _

_ Bucky’s eyes opened and he saw Steve sitting over him, his fingers framing his face on one side. He was wearing his Cap suit but no helmet and was covered in dirt. His lip was busted, too. Bucky could hear shouts and trucks moving. It was then when he realized that he was moving; he was likely sitting in the flatbed of an ambulance. All he could focus on was Steve’s blue eyes.  _

_ “Steve?” _

_ “Bucky, you passed out from that blast, how do you feel?” _

_ Steve’s hands were going through his hair and touching Bucky’s shoulder. His heart was thumping in his chest as he tried to come to his senses.  _

“Bucky, what just happened, are you okay?”

Bucky blinked and felt hot tears go down his cheeks and sting the rims of his eyes. He became acutely aware of the bruises on his ribs as he tried to breathe. 

“I just remembered you touching me like that before,” Bucky said, tears slipping down his face. “I had been hurt and you were in the suit… it was during the war.”

“Is that all?”

“I think so. I was going in and out, but I just remember your eyes…” Bucky said, his hand wanting to reach out and touch Steve’s face. 

“My eyes?”

“I think your eyes are what made me break. When you said those words to me on the helicarrier,” Bucky said. “I could never forget eyes that were so blue.”

**~~~~~**

A week had passed and Bucky was gaining memories back every day. Steve suggested that Bucky start writing them down and gave him a journal to do so; Bucky spent hours writing in the journal about his memories of before, when he and Steve were kids and teenagers. He even found himself writing about the time he had spent as the Winter Soldier, about all of his torture and missions and brainwashing. It was cathartic, even if Bucky began to cry while writing about everything he remembered. Amongst all of the girls he wrote about was Steve; Steve was on every single page. Steve getting in fights, Steve trying to flirt with girls, Steve as Cap. Bucky began to feel things for Steve that he hadn’t felt since before he fell. It was like his body was waking up again and feeling again.

Bucky still couldn’t help but feel that there were gaps in his memory. He remembered loving Steve, but not Steve ever loving him back. It frustrated him- Steve acted like a lover to him now, holding him and talking to him with supportive words and even joining him in bed at night. It took some persuading on Bucky’s end, trying to convince Steve that he was fine and didn’t want to sleep alone, but Steve relented. When they began to sleep in the same bed, Bucky cuddled up to Steve’s side, hoping that the contact and touch would bring back memories of their times together, but nothing. Bucky hoped he wasn’t just making things up when he swore that they kissed and held each other all those years ago. 

Steve called Bucky touch-starved one night, and it was true. Bucky blushes slightly when Steve said it, embarrassed at how much he needed Steve’s touch, even if it was just sitting closer to him on the couch so that their arms and legs touched. Ever since realizing how soothing and relaxing Steve’s physical attention was, Bucky couldn’t get enough of it. When he was the Winter Soldier, his body was hurt and abused; there was never a kind or gentle touch. Steve’s touch was completely opposite to that of handlers, and it made Bucky hungry for a touch that was tame and considerate. A touch like Steve’s. 

Steve took Bucky to the Air and Space Museum in the hopes that it would revive more memories, making sure Bucky wore a hat and hid his metal arm. At the museum, right before they entered, Bucky reached for Steve’s hand to hold, and Steve took it in his. Bucky squeezed it and let out a shaky breath.

“I’m nervous, Steve,” Bucky said. “What if someone recognizes me?”

“I barely get recognized when I come here. Just don’t make eye contact with anyone, Buck.”

“Do they say bad things about me?”

Bucky didn’t even realize that he and Steve were walking forward and into the exhibit his mind was spinning around so rapidly. 

“They say all good things,” Steve whispered next to Bucky’s ear. 

Slowly, Bucky’s eyes scanned the words and pictures on the walls detailing Steve’s childhood and transformation into Captain America. It all confirmed everything Bucky remembered about Steve. The mannequin he assumed Steve’s suit was displayed on wasn’t clothed, but the mural behind it showed the spangled, tacky suit just as Bucky remembered: all red, white, and blue. He saw his old uniform beside Steve’s and felt a tug in his chest for the old days. 

“Buck, look,” Steve said, nudging Bucky’s arm.

Bucky tore his eyes away from his uniform and towards a glass plate with his face on it. He heard the words over the speaker talking about how close they were as children and in the war and when he saw his name beside his picture with the year he died below it, Bucky felt tears form in his eyes. He clamped a hand over his mouth and ducked his head, sniffling loudly. Helplessly, Bucky fell to his knees and sobbed. 

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” Steve said softly as he knelt beside Bucky, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m still dead,” Bucky choked out through his tears. “I’m not the man I once was, Steve. I’m really dead.”

“But Bucky… I don’t care if you’re not the same man.”

Bucky looked into Steve’s blue eyes, finding home in them as he had so many times over the last several days, tears in his own. 

“But I want to be perfect for you,” Bucky said, the words whispers on his lips. 

“I’m not the same man, either,” Steve replied, using his thumbs to wipe the tears off Bucky’s cheeks. “And I’m not perfect.”

Bucky raised his flesh hand and closed it over Steve’s. By now, people were watching them and wondering what was going on; Bucky assumed that the other museum attendees knew who they were. Bucky looked down to Steve’s lips for a second and back up to his eyes. Bucky’s heart accelerated and his gut wrenched tight. 

“Steve?”

“Bucky?”

Bucky forgot what he wanted to say and surged forward, pressing his lips onto Steve’s. It felt like the world melted away when Steve kissed him back, and Bucky swore he never felt more alive and more in his skin. He felt his hat tip off his head, revealing his long, shaggy brown hair. Steve’s hand ran through the long locks and he gripped the hair at Bucky’s nape, drawing him into the kiss even more. Bucky let him, let Steve take control and sighed against Steve’s lips. Slowly, blissfully, they pulled away from each other, Steve’s hands still cupping Bucky’s face. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Bucky said breathlessly, a wistful, fleeting smile on his face.  

“Since 1940?” Steve quipped. 

“Before then,” Bucky smiled, and he kissed Steve again; it felt like home. 

**~~~~~**

“How long have you felt this way about me?” Steve asked as they walked hand-in-hand down the Mall. Bucky smiled at his feet and let out an amused huff. 

“As long as I can remember,” Bucky said. “When we were teenagers, probably.”

“That long, huh?”

“I said I loved you so many times over in my own way. Don’t you remember?”

“How’d you- oh.” Bucky figured Steve put two and two together in that moment. 

“Until the end of the line, Steve,” Bucky said. “I figured I could get away with it that way.”

“Well, you could have just told me,” Steve offered. “I felt the same way about you.”

“That’s awfully reassuring,” Bucky joked. “You still feel the same way?”

“God, of course I do,” Steve said. “I’ve loved you for so long. I never stopped thinking about you.”

Steve’s words warmed Bucky’s heart. He held onto Steve’s hand even tighter and rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

“I love you,” Bucky said for what seemed like the dozenth time that afternoon. “I can’t stop saying it.”

“Well Buck?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too.”

**~~~~~**

That night, Bucky and Steve tucked into bed together with slightly more trepidation than before, but Bucky simply curled up next to Steve in his usual manner, head resting slightly on Steve’s chest. He wrapped his flesh arm around Steve and felt Steve’s hand rest against his back. Bucky’s lips hovered over the skin of Steve’s side. 

“Can I kiss you here?” Bucky asked. He and Steve had talked earlier about consent because of how abruptly Bucky had kissed Steve earlier. 

“Yes,” Steve replied. Bucky licked his lips and left a pressing kiss on the smooth, pale skin of Steve’s side chastely. He pulled away briefly and did it again, a few inches higher, then again right below Steve’s belly button before pulling back and laying down, nestled up to Steve. 

“Bucky,” Steve said into the darkness. “Come up here.”

Bucky slid up and cradled his head into Steve’s neck and shoulder. He wrapped his right leg around Steve’s torso, keeping him tight. Bucky’s nose pressed into Steve’s chin. 

“Can I kiss you, too?” 

“Yes.” 

Steve’s lips found Bucky’s and they kissed deeply, Bucky’s limbs bringing their bodies flush against each other with their bare skin melding together. In a slow, lazy tangle of limbs, Steve pulled Bucky on top of him so that Bucky straddled his hips, right over his groin. Bucky gasped when he felt Steve half-hard against his own cock and pulled his lips from Steve’s. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I don’t want to go that far tonight,” Bucky said with a quiet, barely-there voice. 

“That’s perfectly okay,” Steve said. “Do you want me to touch you, though? Do you want me to get you off with my hand?”

Bucky considered the offer. He had intended to just kiss Steve there on his stomach, nothing more, maybe on his lips. His cock was getting uncomfortably hard, though, and he didn’t want to sleep like this; Steve was offering to take care of him, though, and the offer was very tempting. Bucky rolled his hips over Steve’s hard cock and shuddered, feeling Steve shiver beneath him as well. 

“Just your hand?”

“Just my hand.”

“Then yes.”

Bucky swore he saw Steve smile in the dark as Steve pulled him in for a deep kiss, this time snaking his tongue betwixt Bucky's parted lips. A wandering hand found itself in Bucky’s briefs and Steve grasped Bucky’s hard cock in his firm grip and squeezed, causing Bucky to break the kiss and cry out in surprise. 

With a slight flick of his wrist, Steve drew a moan from Bucky’s lips, making Bucky dig his nails into Steve’s smooth shoulders. He rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, urging him on. Steve’s hand works deftly, quickly, stroking with a practiced finesse. When the precome gathering on his slit gets swiped by Steve’s calloused thumb, Bucky melts and shudders, nearly coming in Steve’s hand. 

“You alright?” Steve asked, stopping the movement of his hand. Bucky whined at the loss of Steve’s strokes and bit his lip, trying to keep his arousal at bay. 

“Yes, just keep going,” Bucky whimpered, hot breath hitting Steve’s shoulder. Steve continued to stroke Bucky’s cock and it made Bucky moan aloud and curl up into Steve’s body. He enclosed his arms around Steve’s neck and shoulders, holding onto him with all of his strength, not wanting to let go of Steve at all. He was so close to Steve, so close to his climax and he hadn’t felt so high and so strung up in decades. His veins were being pumped full of adrenaline and arousal, his heart was beating fast. 

Bucky thrusted up into Steve’s hand slightly at first as he felt himself get closer, as he felt the need to release pool his whole groin. It was becoming unbearable to hold it all in, and Bucky’s breathing became heavier. 

“I’m going to,” Bucky took a deep breath, “I’m going to come.”

Steve’s hand moved more rapidly, but just so; Bucky’s chest heaved as he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, coming all over Steve’s hand. Steve kept a tight grip on his cock, slowly stroking Bucky through the waves and aftershocks of his orgasm. Bucky whined loudly as Steve took his hand away, but the pleasure remained. His limbs felt heavy and he didn’t want to move off of Steve because the feeling of Steve’s body against his was too much. He distantly felt Steve tuck his cock back into his briefs.

“Steve,” Bucky said, nuzzling into Steve’s neck with his stubbled cheek.

“Are you alright, Buck? Was that okay?” Steve asked, stroking Bucky’s spine gently.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Bucky replied with a wistful tone in his voice. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted that.”

“Good,” Steve said. Bucky heard the smile in Steve’s voice clear as a bell. Bucky put his metal hand on the inside of Steve’s thigh, circling the skin there with his finger.

“D’you need me to-”

“You said you didn’t want to go that far,” Steve said closing his hand over Bucky’s metal one. “You don’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said softly, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder and closing his eyes, his body feeling so far removed from this moment. It felt unreal and wild to know that Steve was his and that he had finally been able to kiss him and touch him.

“I’ve got you,” Steve whispered. “I’ll keep you safe, I’ll make you happy. I’ve got you.”

Those words echoed in Bucky’s head. He believed them, not doubting Steve’s words or overthinking them in the slightest.

**~~~~~**

About a month after they kissed for the first time at the Smithsonian, Bucky found himself and Steve on the couch kissing more heatedly than they had before. Steve had Bucky pressed into the couch, the plush upholstery fabric and cushy couch pillow comfortable below Bucky’s back. Steve’s hand was pushing up Bucky’s shirt and Bucky’s metal hand was pulling Steve’s body closer. He and Steve had become more bold with each other in these last two days, with Steve joining Bucky in the shower and Bucky stroking Steve off in the mornings and evenings (even once with his metal hand, which elicited some particularly desirable noises from Steve).

“Please, Steve,” Bucky murmured, his lips brushing Steve’s. “I want this, but-”

Steve pulled away immediately. “What is it? We don’t have to do an-”

“I want to do this, but, Steve,” Bucky breathed in deeply. “I just. I haven’t really done this before with another guy.”

Steve sat back and helped Bucky sit up against the arm of the couch. Bucky pushed the drooping locks of hair back and out of his face. He was considering going back to the shorter style he once wore, which was closely cropped on the sides; he didn’t know how he felt about the long, raggedy hair that Hydra made him have. He didn’t want to raise his eyes to meet Steve’s blue ones, for fear of seeing the disappointment there.

“Buck, it’s okay,” Steve assured him, resting a comforting hand on Bucky’s knee and rubbing it. Bucky didn’t even flinch when he touched him. Steve had a comforting effect on him and he didn’t get so startled when people touched him any longer. “Neither have I, you’re the first guy I ever kiss-”

“I was hurt before,” Bucky said. He crossed his arms and closed his legs together, trying to curl up into himself so that he wasn’t open and vulnerable. “When I was the Winter Soldier.”

“What? How?” Steve retreated his hand. “I know they,” Steve swallowed, “tortured you before.”

Bucky could see the anger and defensiveness rise in Steve’s eyes and posture. Steve had told him that he was upset that he couldn’t have done anything to protect Bucky, even though Bucky told him that Steve was still under and that there really was nothing to be done. Still, though, Steve became defensive of Bucky. That much Bucky knew; it seemed as if Steve would do anything to protect him.

“The handlers that the Winter Soldier had… they forced themselves upon him. Pierce, Rumlow… the whole lot of them,” Bucky said, tears welling up in his eyes. He looked up at Steve, dead in his blue eyes and tried to convey some feeling in his gaze. “He was forced to do a lot of things he didn’t want to.”

“You mean they…” Steve trailed off. Bucky saw Steve ball his hand up into a fist and square his shoulders back slightly.

“This body has been put through things that no person should have to go through,” Bucky said. “I still remember how it all felt.”

“Bucky, you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” Steve said. “We don’t even have to try anything yet. I won’t make you.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, sitting on his knees and leaning forward towards Steve. “You worry so much. All we have to do is take this slow.”

A beat passed.

“Can you do that, Stevie?”

Steve softened at hearing his old nickname in Bucky’s voice. They were closer now, and Bucky could touch Steve’s cheek with his fingertips. Bucky didn’t know how to tell Steve he wanted this so bad he could die, but also that Steve just needed to be slow and careful. Steve leaned into Bucky’s flesh hand, clearly relishing the touch.

“You’re sure you want this?” Steve asked. His gait relaxed and his voice became tender. 

“Yes,” Bucky replied. “Be gentle, go slow.”

“I will. You tell me how you feel, okay?” 

Bucky nodded and leaned in to kiss Steve, clinging onto the front of Steve’s soft jersey t-shirt. 

“I’ll make you forget them,” Steve said lowly with a huskiness in his voice that wasn’t there before. Steve encircled Bucky’s waist with his hands and urged him to wrap his legs around his waist, which Bucky did promptly. Bucky held Steve close as Steve walked them to their bedroom, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he anticipated what Steve would do when he laid him on the bed.

Bucky shivered as he felt the bed collapse under his and Steve’s weight. Steve kissed Bucky on the lips and then on his jaw, going over his neck and the small ‘v’ of skin exposing the dip in his collar bones. Bucky sighed as Steve kissed him there, his lips little whispers on his skin. Bucky cupped the back of Steve’s head as Steve made his way down Bucky’s chest.

“Keep going, Steve,” Bucky said, pulling up the hem of his shirt so that Steve could kiss his bare skin. He quickly pulled it over his head and tossed it somewhere in the room. Steve nodded at Bucky’s request and did so, his lips following the hard grooves and lines of muscle on Bucky’s abdomen. Bucky curled his toes and gripped tight onto the sheets with his metal hand, hearing a slight  _ rrrip  _ in the fabric. 

“Can I?” Steve asked, sitting up on his elbows with his warm fingers hooked under the waistband of Bucky’s sweats and underwear. He propped himself up and looked into Steve’s eyes. The blue in then was barely there- his pupils were blown wide and dark with just a circlet of clear, true blue around them. Bucky nodded and allowed Steve to peel off his bottom layers, exposing his hard cock to the cold air of the room and to Steve’s eyes. He bit his lip and held onto the sheets tighter as he prepared for whatever Steve wanted to do to him next. 

“I’ve never done this,” Steve said with an embarrassed little smile on his face and apologetic eyes. 

“It’s okay.”

Training his eyes,  _ fuck, his blue eyes,  _ on Bucky, Steve took a loose hold on Bucky’s cock and tentatively licked the head with the tip of his tongue, making Bucky hiss in pleasure. Steve did it again and again and again, each time using more of his tongue and stroking him just a bit more. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Steve’s mouth engulfed the head of Bucky’s dick and Bucky moaned aloud, his hand flying to Steve’s short blond hair and  _ pulling.  _ Steve made a noise around Bucky’s cock, sending pleasurable vibrations all through Bucky’s lower body. Steve gently sucked at him and slowly moved his hand in time with his mouth, which had Bucky panting and on edge. All the while, Bucky whimpered and bit back too-loud moans and kept Steve’s hair pushed back so that he could see his eyes. Bucky furrowed his brow, trying to put his mind anywhere but in this room as Steve bobbed his head and sucked, but Steve pulled off, leaving a trail of spit and precome between his lower lip and the tip of Bucky’s cock. He was truly a sight. 

“Was that okay?” Steve asked as he wiped his mouth off on his hand. Bucky huffed in amusement at Steve’s question; how did Steve think that anything he did was less than amazing? His mouth had felt like heaven and his attention was greatly appreciated. Steve sat up on his haunches between Bucky’s legs, waiting expectantly for a response. 

“God, that felt… that felt great,” Bucky said, guiding Steve up. 

“You really think so?”

Bucky saw Steve blush in the dim light of the room and smiled sheepishly. They kissed again, with Steve melting into Bucky’s arms and sprawling his body over Bucky, which had Bucky slip from the headboard and flat on his back. Bucky rocked his hips up into Steve’s belly, his hard cock catching on Steve’s shirt. Steve gripped tight onto Bucky’s metal arm, his fingertips brushing the points of the red star. It felt bittersweet to know Steve was touching this brand, this sign of what he once was, but he got the feeling that Steve didn’t care what he used to be. 

Wanting to feel more of Steve, Bucky tugged on the hem of Steve’s shirt. Getting the hint, Steve sat up on his knees over Bucky, towering over him with all of his height. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the side; the sight of Steve like this made arousal shoot right down Bucky’s spine and to his groin, making his cock stand stiffer. When Steve laid on top of him, Bucky felt Steve’s cock against his thigh, hard and leaking precome through his sweats.  _ I want that,  _ Bucky thought to himself, so he cumbersomely switched their positions so that Steve was sitting against the headboard. 

“Are you sure?” Steve asked hesitantly as Bucky gingerly put his fingers on Steve’s waist and pulled down his pants and underwear, revealing his cock. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it, but Bucky’s face hadn’t been so close to it. He breathed steadily, trying not to let his anxiety overtake him. He remembered distantly being forced to do this and earning a busted lip for gagging when his handler came. He knew Steve wouldn’t do that to him, would never force him, but the memory still bubbled to the surface. Bucky paused, unsure of how he wanted to respond; he wanted this, wanted Steve, but he found himself wanting because Steve hadn’t forced him. The decision to or not to was completely up to Bucky and that was attractive to him; he hadn’t been able to afford choice before. 

And when Steve looked like this, pale skin flushed pink, blue eyes blown wide with lust, and blond hair mussed, how could Bucky not want to do this with him?

“I want to do this because  _ I  _ want to, not because some asshole with a gun made me,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s cock in his flesh hand as Steve kicked off his pants. “Just let me do this.”

Closing his eyes, Bucky dipped his head and took the head of Steve’s cock in his mouth, tasting the slightly salty precome and sweat on his tongue. He heard Steve cry out and felt him cling to his long, brown hair and pull on it in the way Bucky would never admit was so pleasurable. Bucky could even swear he smelled the arousal and want and need roll off Steve’s body he was so close to him. It all overwhelmed his senses and Bucky moaned and took more of Steve’s cock into his mouth. He sucked and bobbed his head, moving his hand in time with the movements like Steve had. Bucky lost himself in sucking him, letting the taste and smell and feel of Steve be the only thing on his mind. Everything else became secondary. Steve’s fingers in his hair reminded him what he was doing and who he was with. 

“Stop! Stop, I’m going to come,” Steve gasped out. Bucky pulled off immediately and panted, trying to bring air to his fatigued lungs. Steve looked positively  _ gone,  _ his usual reserve kicked to the side and in its place, pure need. 

“Do you want to maybe go further?” 

The question made Bucky’s skin prick with goosebumps. Steve’s voice was deep and husky, and the underlying promise of Steve’s cock inside of him made Bucky sit up on his haunches and look Steve into his eyes like he had so many times that night. 

“Please?” Bucky asked, not recognizing his own voice because it was so raspy. 

“Then come here,” Steve said. Bucky scrambled up to join Steve and let his back be pressed into the mattress. He felt it dip deeply as Steve laid on top of him, their bare skin sticking because of the slowly-drying sweat. 

“How do you want me?” Steve asked, trailing his hand down Bucky’s side. 

“Can you,” Bucky gulped. He spread his legs just wide enough for Steve to lie between them. “Can you make love to me?”

“Anything for my best guy,” Steve replied and pressed a chaste kiss to Bucky’s lips and then over his star. It was almost enough to make Bucky cry. 

Steve situated himself between Bucky’s legs and placed his hands on the tops of Bucky’s thighs to gently spread them apart more. Steve paused for a moment, his hands still on Bucky, and glanced to his bedside table before wordlessly leaning over and fishing a small bottle of lotion out of it. Bucky watched as Steve squeezed some onto his hand and stroke himself to slick his cock up. 

“Can I touch you here?” Steve asked as he hovered his finger over Bucky’s hole. Bucky nodded and Steve covered his hole in the cool lotion, making Bucky squirm and whine in pleasure. 

“I want to look at your face while we,” Bucky said and shrugged, too embarrassed to finish his sentence. “You know.”

“Course,” Steve responded and laid over Bucky, propped up on his elbows. Both men shared a smile and an amused huff. Bucky realized that this was so much for the both of them; they’d been waiting decades for this. They were about to finally take that leap they’d longed for and dreamed about. 

“You’re going to be my first, Buck,” Steve said with a shy smile. “I’m glad I waited so long.”

Bucky beamed back, cupping Steve’s cheek in his hand. “I’ve never wanted something more, Stevie.”

Steve gave Bucky a brief kiss before he guided his cock to Bucky’s hole. Bucky felt the hot, blunt head against his sensitive skin and took a deep breath in as Steve slowly pressed into him, meeting some resistance. When Steve finally breached his hole, Bucky cried out and held onto Steve’s biceps tighter as Steve entered him inch by inch until he bottomed out. The burn-stretch of Steve inside him turned to pleasure and Bucky groaned as he adjusted to the sensation. Bucky exhaled to focus himself, but his breath was broken-sounding, like he was in pain. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, wincing. Bucky could tell Steve was trying not to come. 

“Yes, just keep going,  _ fuck,”  _ Bucky swore, gasping for air as he adjusted himself and felt Steve’s cock touch  _ something  _ in him. 

With caution, Steve withdrew slightly from inside of Bucky and gave an experimental first thrust. Both men groaned in unison at the feeling; Bucky squeezed around Steve as he tried to hold back the faint feeling of orgasm, but it only made Steve grip the sheets and grunt in response. Bucky rocked his hips back, trying to urge Steve on, and Steve responded with another thrust. Slowly but surely, they built up a rhythm, anticipating the other’s movements. 

“Love you,” Bucky said, clinging onto Steve and wrapping his legs around his waist and thighs. 

“Love you,” Steve replied, his voice strained. He kissed Bucky messily, their lips haphazardly sliding over each other. His body ached for Steve’s touch and attention, and Bucky buried his face into Steve’s shoulder as the other man gripped his hip and thrusted into him, his movements becoming more forceful yet still gentle and tender. Bucky felt flutters in his stomach and he curled his toes as he felt himself get closer; his heart was racing and he was panting heavily. In a moment of need, Bucky reached between his and Steve’s abdomens and grabbed his untouched cock with his flesh hand and stroked it in time with their movements. He moaned when he felt Steve touch that part of him he had on accident earlier. 

“I’m close, do that again,” Bucky begged, his voice practically a mewl as the points of his metal hand scratched across Steve’s back and likely drew blood. He heard the quiet  _ whirrr _ of his arm’s mechanisms as he moved it down Steve’s back. Steve hit him there again, again,  _ again  _ and Bucky found himself trying harder not to come each time Steve hit that spot inside of him. A few strokes and thrusts later, Bucky felt his insides dissolve and his limbs liquefy as came with a groan. Pleasure and emotion and adrenaline coursed through his whole body as he held onto Steve and spilled all over his hand. He squeezed hard around Steve’s cock like a vice, stopping the other man. 

“I’m-” Steve gasped, unable to finish his sentence as he tightly fisted the sheets and bruisingly held onto Bucky’s hip. Bucky watched as Steve came, brow furrowed and blue eyes darkened with lust. Bucky felt Steve’s come spill inside him in hot spurts and he moaned at the sensation. Steve collapsed on top of him, exhausted and panting, and Bucky wrapped his arms around the other man. He kissed the top of Steve’s sweaty head and murmured  _ I love you, Stevie  _ into his messy blond hair. He felt Steve kiss the joining of his metal arm to his flesh and Bucky’s eyes stung with hot tears. One slipped down his cheek and he sniffed. 

“Buck? You okay?”

Bucky just smiled to himself and hugged Steve tighter. 

“Now I am.”

Bucky wouldn’t forget this memory for the life of him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers! Hunter's on vacation so it's yours truly, Kendall, posting this boi. If you have made it this far, (which I hope you have, this fic is fantastic) then I would like to leave you with some wisdom. If you're ever questioning your purpose, your place in this world, your life, your sexuality, anything, know that you're not alone. You're not the only one. Even though things may seem a little sticky, you can do it. You can make it through. In those rough times, just ask yourself: "What would Leonard Bernstein do?"
> 
> me, in ya brain: kudos/comment on this fic  
> you: but why  
> me, in ya brain: you gotta
> 
> ~Hunter


End file.
